


a guide for falling in love: magical edition

by hyaccinth



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Durmstrang Shiro, M/M, Triwizard Tournament, Yule Ball, slytherin lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 20:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyaccinth/pseuds/hyaccinth
Summary: Lance has been number one fan of the legendary Triwizard Tournament ever since his muggle-born self found out about it. When it's finally time for him to witness it with his own eyes he expects all sort of things; daring fights, mystic creatures, physical and mental challenges, or even death. He definitely did not expect to fall in love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally going to be a long one shot but eh i'll just make it multi-chapter. this is kinda short because it's just sort of an introduction, next chapters will be longer
> 
> also this fic is 100% an excuse to have durmstrang shiro taking lance to the yule ball so the focus will be that 
> 
> updates will be once/twice a week! honestly depends on how excited yall are for this,,

“Hurry up, Hunk! The schools are arriving soon and I want to get a good spot,” Lance is pulling at his best friend’s robe and walking as fast as he can, trying to outrun everyone else.

This single moment is the sole reason why he had gotten into Hogwarts. Okay, maybe he is exaggerating, he does need to learn about magic and the school is totally awesome. But Lance has been counting the days to watch the Triwizard Tournament in person with his own eyes ever since the discovering of said event in his first year, reading all about the trials until late at night in Slytherin’s common room and nagging the History of Magic teacher to tell him more about it. Everyone in the school knows how plain obsessed Lance is with the game.

He had rejoiced the entire past week, insisting to snoop around and help with preparations for the accommodations of the foreigner students, despite not being a prefect, he had helped Professor Coran with little tasks here and there — having a soft spot for the boy, Coran let him. Lance wants to be part of it as much as he can, aware that it is a once in a lifetime chance. He will no longer be a student when the next Tournament happens.

The most awaited day of the year has finally come and Lance couldn't be more thrilled, his friends know for a fact that there isn't someone as enthusiastic as him about the event in the whole school.

“This is so exciting!” Lance bounces on his feet, clutching to Hunk’s arm, the cold wind tinting his nose red. This year the reception is being held at the front gates of the school, outside in the cold winter, where each guest school would fly in with their extravagant carriages and land in front of the awaiting crowd.

Despite the Tournament itself, Lance is looking forward to meet all the different students, ready to swoon and sigh over all the new faces. Perhaps foreigners would be more receptive of his pick up lines? The audience in London isn't easy. And it's always refreshing to have new people around.

Lance grips his friend’s arm harder when he spots two carriages in the sky, getting closer and closer. The first carriage to land is from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, according to Professor Coran’s energetic announcement, the Durmstrang Institute following right behind — the differences between them are clear like glass to everyone, but you know, formalities, after all, one of these students could be the winner of eternal glory and fame.

All watching students from Hogwarts let out a strangled gasp when both doors open at the same time, some jumping at the loud noise. A dozen dancers come out from each carriage, showing exuberant moves in a silent and beautiful competition. It's stunning, everyone is completely enchanted. Lance smiles, Wizards never miss the opportunity to be dramatic. He loves it. His heart pumps in his chest so furiously, it might escape through his throat and join either Beauxbatons' swift dance or Durmstrang's bold, acrobatic moves.

The carriages creak when the Headmasters from each school step outside side by side, head high, sparing only a glance and a head bow at each other. They're as intimidating as rulers of two of the biggest Magic schools should be — if not more.

“Hunk, I'm going to pass out,” He says with a small voice when the students follow right behind their Headmasters.

Lance truly doesn't know where to look — or to hide.

He is quite intimidated by Beauxbatons’ students. The delicate, alluring pretty features and mischievous eyes could probably hex you in seconds if you glance their way for too long. Lance won't dare to try them. The students from Durmstrang are the opposite. Strong, defined facial and body features, cold eyes that wouldn't look your way twice transmitting a single message; we are better. It isn't hard for Lance to believe that.

However, he meets a pair of warm, grey eyes in the crowd staring into his blue ones. Lance recognizes him as Takashi Shirogane, Durmstrang’s golden boy, youngest Quidditch player of their National team — possibly history — even after losing his arm fighting a dragon during a failed field trip, all while still in school. Sharp jawline, pitch black undercut hair with a white patch at the front, a pinkish scar across the bridge of his nose, not to mention how good his body looks even under the thick winter uniform. Lance risks a smile and the guy immediately looks away. Of course he doesn't stand a chance.

“Dude, did Shirogane just looked at you?” Hunk deadpants.

“Why would he?” Lance shrugs, only a little hurt that the guy ignored him. But let's be honest, what did he expect?

Sighing and snuggling closer to Hunk for warmth, something tells Lance no one from that bunch would appreciate his flirting skills either. At least definitely not the people from Durmstrang, maybe he can take a few hexes trying with the Beauxbatons.

 

*

 

"Who are you looking at?" Keith asks beside him.

Shiro snaps his eyes from Slytherin's table back at his friend. "Nobody." 

Keith hums, pretending to believe him. Shiro shakes his head and focus on the foreign food in front of him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should i have waited more to update this? probably...

_ Stupid Pidge,  _ Lance sulks, carrying a heavy pile of books and throwing one by one in the air, watching them fit into their respective places. Pidge always makes  _ him _ return  _ their _ books, especially when there are better things to do, like sneak to the kitchen and ask the domestic elves if they heard of any gossip regarding the guests or just get a taste of the food for that night’s banquet — the elves are quite fond of him, Lance would say dare say he's spoiled. 

He returns the last book and his eyes spot a familiar figure on a far off table. Shirogane doesn’t look as intimidating under the library’s lights, face adorably focused on a book, even when he's wearing harsh-looking uniform. Lance might as well introduce himself — even if he had been completely ignored earlier. He approaches the table with careful footsteps. 

“Hey there,” Lance greets, mentally praying not to be humiliated, there were quite a few people that could hear and spread the word around. Shirogane looks up from whatever book he’s been reading and  _ wow _ , he really is handsome. It takes Lance's breath away, but he can't afford to freeze and appreciate the beauty in front of him at the moment. “Name's Lance,” He shots a crooked grin and makes himself comfortable in the empty chair next to the guy. “What's yours?” 

Well, that is just the perfect thing to say. Everybody knows Shirogane. _ Great job, Lance. _

“Shirogane,” He speaks, a hint of amusement in his smooth, deep voice thick with accent.  _ “ _ But please, call me Shiro.” 

“Shiro, huh?” Lance tries the name, liking how it sounds. Shiro looks away, though, and Lance exasperatedly tries to come up with something that can save the conversation before he loses the opportunity or gets ignored again. “So! Why, out of all places to explore in the infamous Hogwarts, are you at the library?” 

He leans on the table, supporting his head with his hand, trying to play it cool, to dismiss the heat on his face. Shiro really is one of the most attractive people he's ever gotten the pleasure to meet — or stand next to. 

“I don't know of many places,” Shiro frowns at the book still open in his hands _. _ Lance feels his ears burn, the guy is really talking to him,  _ actual words.  _ “And everyone is too intimidated to approach me. Until now.” Shiro  looks at Lance and opens the most genuine smile he’s seen all week, it makes his knees weak and his heart squeeze. 

Lance knows how it feels to have only a handful of people who you can interact with, perks of being a Muggle-Born in Slytherin. His first year had been really hard — thankfully, things got a lot better, his sixth year is treating him very nicely. It makes Lance incredibly upset to know the same may happen to Shiro. 

“You're lucky you have me now! I’m going to make sure that you experience the most amazing and unforgettable time in Hogwarts. Of course not counting the probable-near-death trials of the Tournament to come, that is.”

“Uh…” Shiro half gapes at him, barely blinking. Lance slightly shifts in his feet, is there something on his face? 

“There isn't anyone in this whole building more suitable to show you around, I can get you into places no one else can,” Lance stands up, cockily smiling down at the other, confidence finding its way out as this is Lance's expertise. “A private tour around Hogwarts with the honorable non-official Triwizard Tournament Connoisseur Lance McClain, brought to you by my beautiful parents. You can’t possibly miss this once in a Tournament chance.” 

Okay, perhaps Lance  _ is  _ talking nonstop, which may not turn out to be a really good first impression — or is it second? Maybe the shared look at the reception counts. He apprehensively waits for Shiro to process all he’s just blurted out and either agree or laugh at his face and reject him. 

“As long as it's inside,” Shiro closes his book and stands up, towering over Lance and looking simply  _ gorgeous  _ even in Durmstrang's ugly brown uniform. “My arm hurts when it's cold.” His smile falters for a second.

“Only warm and cosy places.” Lance lifts up his hands in pretended defeat, he never intended to take Shiro outside, not when his nose gets embarrassingly red and the thick layer of snow can make him fall easily. “Let's get away from all these books before you start touching  _ your shelf. _ ” 

Lance physically holds back from facepalming himself for the pun and probably ruining his so carefully won chance. Except Shiro  _ giggles,  _ and Lance is on cloud nine. He can't help but think with a smile that Shiro really is different from other Durmstrang students. 

They make their way into the vast hallways, receiving questioning, indifferent and incredulous looks from other students. Of course they would draw attention. Shiro, the golden boy, walking side by side with no other than Lance, the Slytherin outcast. The duo sticks out like a sore thumb. Shiro is used to it, immaculate posture and serene eyes scanning the place around him curiously, meanwhile Lance tries his best to shrink inside his robes and scarf.

The silence between them is neither comfortable nor unpleasant, it’s just silence, filled by the white noise of footsteps and conversation around them. It drives Lance to the edge, like at any second someone will disturb this moment, take Shiro away to do something better other than hang out with him and Lance won’t even be able to object. He needs to prove he isn’t boring, he is interesting and worth the other’s precious time. 

“So, Shiro…” Lance steals a sideways glance. “You don't look Swedish or Norwegian, and last time I checked Durmstrang only accept those students, but you also have their accent…” Lance squint. “I don't mean to offend you, I swear, I’m just curious." He adds hurriedly. To  his relief, Shiro doesn't seem bothered by the question.

“I understand your confusion, it's not easy to see an Asian in Durmstrang,” He smiles gently and Lance  _ melts. _ “My mother is Swedish and my father is Japanese, they moved from Osaka to Stockholm when I was about two years old.” 

“Ah! It's like my family!” Lance chirps, bouncing on his feet, glad that they have something in common to talk about. “Cuban dad, British mom, moved here before I was even born, but my older sister and brother were already about five years old, I think? So their English carries a slight accent, not as thick as Dad’s, though. Me, my mom and the younger kids have the strongest British accent. Oh, and I had to learn Spanish ‘cause we speak it at home sometimes and Dad says he doesn't want me to drift away from his culture, it's part of me too, after all.” 

“That is quite interesting,” Shiro hums, lips curled up in a smile and eyes focus only on Lance. “Your family sounds very fun.” 

“Yeah, I’m a Muggle-Born so when they make a big deal out of magic,” Lance scratches the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. “Do you have any siblings? I have four, it's a mess back at home, but a good kind of mess.” 

“I’m an only child." Shiro pouts. Lance's chest warm up. "But I have a friend that is very dear to me, he is like my little brother."

“That's nice! Did he come to Hogwarts too?"

"Yes, he did." 

"Man, you're lucky you’ve never had to experience an older sister bossing you around and taking care of the younger ones all the time cause your brother is too lazy,” he sulks.

“I don't think you would want to never experience that either.” Shiro tilts his head to the side, looking almost tenderly at Lance.

“Damn, you're right, I wouldn't.” He sighs, content and melancholic, he loves his siblings even with all the banter and bickering. “Hey, do you want to know what it feels like to be part of a big family?” 

Shiro squints at Lance’s mischievous grin and arched eyebrows. “...Sure.” 

“I’m not about to Apparate us to my house, if that's what you're thinking.” 

“Never crossed my mind.”

“Yeah, sure,” Lance amusedly rolls his eyes. “It's okay, I tend to come off a little nuts because of the way I speak and uh— the good amount of pranks I pulled in the years, but don't worry I won't try anything with you.” 

“I trust you.” 

His head snap in Shiro’s direction with almost an audible crack. No one has ever said that to him so blunt and surely after meeting Lance. He was told to be too nosey, too goofy, and coming from a Slytherin, from the house known very well about its dark magic inclinations, that couldn’t be good, he couldn’t be loyal like other houses — he couldn’t be trusted. It had taken days for Hunk to stop the strained laughter when Lance was around and weeks for Pidge to even talk back to him. And yet there is Shiro, trusting him so blind and willingly, making Lance’s chest fill up with warmth and fondness. 

Lance doesn’t reply to that — he doesn’t know how to. He guides them through the school, the hallways getting emptier at each turn, the wicked whispers from other students fading away. He watches Shiro look around them, watches him smile at paintings, watches him run a hand over an intricate piece on the wall, watches him look back at Lance. He's so distracted by the Durmstrang boy he almost misses it. 

“There it is! Sweet, they haven’t changed the location yet,” Lance spots the small wooden door beside a statue in an empty dead-end hallway. He looks from the door to Shiro a couple of times. “You may have to squeeze a little but you’ll fit.”  _ I think.  _

Lance knocks on the door three times, registering Shiro’s adorable surprise when a snarky domestic elf opens the small door. 

“Lance! What are you doing here, we’re buried in work today,” The elf turns around, an invitation for them to come inside. “These foreigners eat like Romanian Longhorns!” Lance giggles, tugging at Shiro’s sleeve to follow inside. 

It’s hot and steamy inside the kitchen, with all stoves on and working full force, Shiro is clearly astonished by all the domestic elves walking up and down with bowls and pans, sauces and ingredients by the way way he looks at them with eyes slightly widened. 

“I’ve never been to a school’s kitchen before,” He mumbles and leans forward to whisper next to Lance’s ear. “I thought all the food was magically made.”

Lance can't help but burst out laughing, shaking his shoulders and trying really hard to stop when noticed Shiro’s embarrassed face. Is the golden boy from one of the harshest Magic Schools supposed to be this fucking adorable?

“That's understandable,” He pats Shiro on the shoulder. “I would have thought the same thing if I wasn't Muggle-born and helped my mom in the kitchen a lot.” 

“How are you even allowed in here?” Lance could hear the mild awe in Shiro's voice.

Before he can answer the question, the other elves spot Lance and come to tug at his robe and get his attention, dragging him forward to the center of the kitchen. Lance grabs Shiro’s hand to pull him along. His hand is unexpectedly warm. 

“My boy, have you been eating?” One of the elves sit him down on a chair and squeeze Lance's arms. “You need to eat more! We cook all this food and you’re still so skinny!” They scold, receiving a sheepish grin from Lance in return.  “Look at your friend here, all strong and big! Don’t you wanna be like him?”

“Then I would barely fit through the door, Tete!” Lance pouts.

“You aren't even allowed in here, Lance!” 

“But you guys love me too much.” He smiles smugly at the elf, who only grunts in response. 

Lance had found the school’s kitchen on accident, when trying to pass time and run away from the caretaker who always has an eye glued on the boy, waiting for him to pull something and immediately take him to detention. The elves were too busy to notice the lanky second year Slytherin in a corner, looking at everything in an awe. Lance can be very, _ very  _ persistent when he wants, and not even the constant change of entrance managed to get rid of his eager and talkative presence. The elves grew fond of him with time, allowing the boy in with only a half-annoyed comment, giving hints of where the door would be changed next, letting him taste the food before everyone else. 

Lance loves this place more than any other in Hogwarts. It’s always agitated and smells simply delicious. It reminds him of home. 

“Do they always let you in like this?” Shiro asks, eyebrow raised almost to his hairline. 

“First, calm your eyebrows, you’ll get wrinkles before your thirties.” Lance pokes Shiro’s forehead. “Second, let’s say they had a hard time trying to keep me away and found out it’s easier to just let me inside.”

“This is amazing, you’re amazing,” Shiro  laughs, full on laughs, head thrown back and shoulders shaking. It’s a deep, delicious sound that reverberates through Lance’s body and brings color to his cheeks.

"You know, I never brought anyone here..." Lance says in a small voice.  It is true, though. The kitchen is Lance's secret, his gateway from everything, and he never felt like sharing it with anybody. He doesn't know why he brought Shiro there, of all people, someone he just met. He hasn't even  _told_ Hunk about it, for Merlin's sake. 

"I'm glad you trusted me enough to show me, then." Shiro places a hand on Lance's arm, smile warmer than the kitchen stoves. 

“Lance!” Thankfully one of the younger elves come barging in the conversation and don’t let Lance stutter an embarrassed answer. “I’ve perfected that recipe you told me about, taste it!”

She hands him a small pot with the food, little feet fidgeting in eagerness. Lance savours it carefully, trying to make out a real opinion and not patronize the elf with a random positive comment. 

“Here, try it.” He scoops an mount and lifts it to Shiro’s mouth, who looks a bit fazed by the sudden action but opens his mouth to take it in anyway. His eyes widen only a second after closing his lips shut and Lance smirks knowingly. 

“What do you think?”

“Wow,” The other student hums, finishing chewing. “I’ve never tasted anything like this before, what is it called?” 

“Mac and Cheese.” Lance hands him the pot with more of the food. “It’s very popular among Muggles and should be around Wizards. I was desperately craving it some time ago and I was horrified to know they didn’t have it, so I decided to bless the Wizard World with the sacred recipe. Hestia is trying to cook one better than my mom’s,” He glanced at the elf in front of them. “Which is impossible but she insists.”

“I don’t know about that, this is pretty good,” Shiro says in between spoons. Lance chuckles at the sight of the so called golden boy devouring Mac and Cheese. 

“Trust me, Mama cooks  _ the best  _ Mac and Cheese ever.” He clicks his tongue and turns to the awaiting elf. “I’m impressed, but it’s not quite there yet.” 

Hestia doesn't seem hurt by the critic, if not only looking more determined as she walks away.

Lance stays silent, letting Shiro take in his surroundings. He lifts his head to watch the pans and ingredients flying over their heads, he look in amused concern at two elves bickering, he observes Lance interact and laugh with a small group and darts his glance away when Lance catches him.  

“So this is what a big family feels like?” Shiro asks when Lance comes back from a food tasting to sit beside him again. 

“Pretty much, yeah. Bickering, screams, laughter, food,” He chuckles. “Chaos.”

“You said you were Muggle-Born, how does your family take all the magic?” Shiro tilts his head, de does that a lot.  _ Like a puppy _ , Lance thinks with a smile. 

“They’re very proud of me.” He puffs his chest out. “The younger ones are always asking to do tricks and it makes my older brother jealous. But Mama doesn’t let me use it for house chores which is  _ so  _ unfair, I’ve got magic I have to use it!” 

Shiro laughs again, that beautiful sound that makes Lance giddy to hear more and more each time. It’s like ambrosia, once you get a taste of it, you would kill for more.

As time goes by and the kitchen gets too hot for them to bare in the thick winter robes, they say farewell to the elves and leave to the empty, cold corridor, not without the younger ones pulling at Lance’s robe and begging him to stay just a little longer and him promising to come back as soon as possible. 

“Where are you taking me next?” Shiro asks, a gorgeous smile on his lips, eyes sparkling in pure joy. 

“It's a surprise.” Lance says simply, not being able to hold back his own smile. “But it’s almost time for dinner now, we should part ways.”

“Will there be Mac and Cheese?” Shiro teases. Lance laughs.

“I can make some arrangements…”

Shiro abruptly stops in his tracks, making Lance turn around to him with a questioning look. “When will we meet again?” 

“God,” Lance snorts, shaking his head. “You’re so dramatic. Meet me at the library tomorrow after breakfast, I’ll take you to our next destination.”

“Sounds perfect." Shiro gives that one genuine, blinding smile again. Lance's heart must be the size of a grape from all the squeezing in his chest.

Lance hops on the next flight of stair before it starts moving and looks behind to wave a last goodbye at Shiro, heart fluttering and feeling like a first year with a silly crush. He almost can't believe he is now somewhat friends with Takashi Shirogane. He can't believe how giddy he is to know more and more about the Durmstrang boy, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are love! the most yall comment the faster i update
> 
> edit: i'll only be updating this after shangst week is over (cause i'm writing a multi-chapter for that so go read that)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so! i'm back on my bullshit! which means i'm finishing this fic for the sake of whoever still wants to read this. i have most chapters already written, just the main one that i haven't finished yet but hopefully i will soon. i promise updates will come regularly.

Lance totally doesn't spend extra twenty minutes getting ready, and totally doesn't eat his breakfast in ten second just so he isn't late to his library meet up with Shiro. He totally doesn't sit in twenty different positions in his chair trying to figure out which one looks natural and good and relaxed and charming enough. 

He is too busy deciding if he should undo his tie or not to notice Shiro approaching the table. 

“Good morning.” Shiro shoots that smile made of literal sunshine and Lance totally forgets to breathe.

“Hey,” His voice is embarrassingly almost nonexistent. Lance clears his throat hard and stands up rather quickly. “I mean good morning! Isn’t today a great day? The Phoenix is rising and the sirens are singing, but of course we can't hear them ‘cause they're underwater.” Lance smiles enthusiastically. 

“Quiet, McClain.” A student on the table beside them complains.

“Sorry…” Lance whispers, shrinking his shoulders. “Let's just get out of here.” Shiro only nods and follows Lance out of the library. 

“Where are we going today?” Shiro asks. Lance notices how excited he sounds, how his eyes are glimmering a little at the expectation, and it makes his chest warm. 

“You’ll see,” He winks playfully at the other.

The walk along the wide corridors look much like the same to outsiders; two people that would probably never hang out together. To Lance, though, the mood feels lighter than the last time. He’s no longer hesitant to talk, no longer afraid Shiro will want to flee away from him, because he gets a feeling that the other really likes his company. For Merlin, let his guts be right. 

“So this room is very special to me, kind of like the kitchen, but more,” Lance says. “But it’s really incredible and you cannot leave Hogwarts without seeing it, so I’m making an exception for you.” 

Shiro giggles and not to be that person but Lance thinks it sounds like angels. 

When they reach a rather simple door in one of the many adjacent hallways, Lance’s body vibrates in anticipation. He knows it looks plain, no big deal, anyone would ignore the existence of that door, and that’s one of the reasons why it’s so great. That, and what's inside. 

“Okay,” Lance smiles at an inquisitive Shiro. “Ready?” 

“As you are,” 

Lance is bouncing on his feet and biting his lip as he uses a spell to unlock the door. Upon entering, the room seems really boring. There is no furniture and the walls are the usual exposed bricks. 

“Now, the magic begins,” He shoots a side grin at Shiro, who looks very confused. “Quite literally, since I have to use a spell to make it work.” 

Almost immediately after the words leave his mouth, the walls around them start to transfigure into a bright landscape. And in the next minute they’re surrounded by a clear blue sky, soft sand at their feet, the sea right ahead so shiny and the sun so bright. They can smell the salty ocean, hear the waves crashing and the wind blowing, feel the warmth of the sun above. 

“It's Varadero beach,” Lance sighs in wonder, hypnotized by the sighting as if he is really there. “I went there once with my family and it's the most beautiful place in the entire planet. Don’t you think?” 

When Shiro doesn’t answer, Lance looks at him, and is surprised to see him already staring back. 

“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” The smile that follow those words is different from any other one Lance has seen on Shiro. It’s almost tender, meaningful. It makes Lance's cheeks grow hot and his stomach to flip inside him. 

Lance clears his throat, looking at the very real imagine of the sea. “So! This is the Projection Room, you think of something or somewhere and _boom!_ the projection of that thing appears. Pretty cool, isn’t it?” 

“It is really fantastic,” Shiro takes his time to look around them. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Thank you for showing me.” 

Lance smiles satisfactorily. “Told ya you couldn’t leave without seeing it.” 

He takes off his winter robe, pulls up his sweater’s sleeves and plops himself down on the projection of sand — which even feels warm, magic is great! —, tapping the place beside him for Shiro to sit. “Make yourself at home, buddy,” 

While Shiro takes off his thick coat and settles down, Lance closes his eyes and feels what this room manages to offer him so realistically. His hair actually blows with the wind, the slight heat washing away the cold from the outside, he is almost able to taste the salt on his lips — or maybe that’s just his mind playing tricks on him. It’s so peaceful. And the fact that he's sharing it with Shiro makes it even better.

“Is that sea actually wet?” Shiro asks, scanning around them. 

“Well, trust me or not, most seas — water in general — are wet. Can you believe that?!” Lance fakes an incredulous face for the joke’s sake.

“You know what I mean,” Shiro rolls his eyes and crooks a side smile.

“I do,” Lance laughs. “No, it’s not wet. We can feel the wind, the sun, but not the sand and water — believe me, I’ve tried jumping in. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know how projection works.” 

“Keith has been on a field trip to Cuba once, he might have even been to this beach.” Shiro says next to him. 

The sight of Shiro looking so relaxed, with just a long sleeved undershirt and hair flowing, makes Lance’s heart squeeze into the size of a peanut. He is a weak man, okay? And Shiro is too attractive for his own — and others — good. 

“Tell me about this Keith, he sounds pretty important to you.” He gives an encouraging lift of eyebrows. 

“He’s this scrawny pale teenager with one hell of a temper that I have no clue how can fit in him,” Shiro’s expression becomes soft and nostalgic as he begins to speak, the curve of his lips curling up. “It was his first year when he asked me to tutor him privately, I was still on second year myself but he was so stubborn and determined about it,” He chuckles. “We’ve been like family ever since.” 

Lance smiles tenderly, brushing off the tiniest bit of jealousy away — he would have liked to meet Shiro in his first year, it’s almost unfair that someone else got to experience that. “Well, I’d love to meet him!” 

Shiro hums in agreement, looking far off into the landscape as his eyebrows knit together. Lance doesn’t need to know Shiro for years to know the other has worries in his mind. 

"Why is your pretty face frowning?" He questions softly, not sure if he should sick his nose in the matter. 

Shiro's eyes snap back at Lance for a moment before looking away again. He clears his throat. "He wants to put his name in the Goblet of Fire.” He falls silent, seeming to consider whether or not he should get into detail. Finally, “I think it's too dangerous for him. People _die_ in these tournaments,” 

Shiro doesn’t need to say in words that he’s scared to lose his close friend, Lance — somehow — knows. He would be just as worried if Hunk, in all his big soft glory, decided to face the trials. 

“I understand your concern, but you know, I think this is his decision to make,” Lance tilts his head, placing a hand on Shiro’s shoulder for some sort of comfort. “Besides, he had you as a tutor, if he’s half as good as you are, he’ll be fine even if he’s chosen.” 

“I guess,” Shiro sighs heavily. 

“Oh, come on, I didn’t bring you here to mope around,” Lance gives a light shove on other’s shoulder. 

“Worrying just comes naturally to me,” 

“You’re at a beach! Well, technically. Worrying in the last thing you should be doing here.” He huffs in fake annoyance. 

“What’s the first thing, then?”

 _Kissing me slowly while the waves crash over us_ , is what he's tempted to say. But those are very inappropriate thoughts to have, specially if they're directed towards Durmstrang's Golden Boy, whom he met two days ago for Merlin's sake! _Bad Lance, bad._

“Playing ball, eating ice-cream, getting a tan,” Lance shrugs, locking away his other thoughts. “You know, the usual.” 

"I don't remember ever doing any of those things," The boy looks suddenly very deep in thought. "All I did my entire life consist on getting good grades, keeping up a reputation for the school and playing Quidditch. Not that I'm complaining, Quidditch is my passion, I know it. But I don't even have a favorite ice-cream flavor." Shiro shrinks his too wide shoulders, almost embarrassed to admit that. 

"Are you shitting me?" Lance's jaw drops, because how can someone not have a favorite ice-cream flavor? "Well, I'll make sure you get a taste of every single ice-cream flavor we have in this school for desert tonight. And tomorrow you tell me which one you liked most. Deal?" 

"Deal." Shiro smiles big and happy. Lance wants to stare at him forever. How can a person be so kind, sweet, and beautiful inside and out? Lance is starting to fully believe Shiro's existence goes against the natural order of things. It's just not possible. 

He doesn't realize he's been staring agape — honestly, can you blame him? — until Shiro clears his throat. Lance just can't stop embarrassing himself and making his attraction blunt, can he? 

"Anyways," Lance looks away, cheeks burning. "Wanna head to the Owerly and see all the cute owl babies we've got?" He proposes, and, to be honest, he's very eager to see Shiro's big, buff self trying to delicately hold a tiny owl. 

"I _love_ baby owls." Shiro lets out a grunt that sounds too dirty in Lance's ears for him to cope. _He's talking about owl babies, Lance, calm the fuck down._

"Let's go bond over birds, then, big guy." Lance gets up with a silent thanks for the sand being fake and none of it getting in uncomfortable places. 

They leave the Projection Room with a really nice, relaxed mood between them, chatting away in the hallway — or more like Lance talking and Shiro listening and agreeing — when someone bumps hard onto Lance’s shoulder. 

“Hey!” He gives a face to the person, but they keep walking, not even bothering to stop and apologize. He can tell by the uniform it was a Durmstrang student. “Talk about manners.” 

“Keith!” Beside him, Shiro calls after the guy — who sports a horrible mullet, by the way. Keith doesn’t seem keen on talking as he ignores Shiro and continues walking.

“ _That’s_ Keith?!” He asks incredulously to no one in particular. 

Shiro gives Lance an apologetic look and joggs to catch up with Keith. Not sure what to do, and a little pissed off the guy didn’t even stop, Lance follows right behind. 

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro reaches for the other’s shoulder, who turns around abruptly and snaps Shiro’s hand away. _What a pleasant guy_. 

“You told the Headmaster to not let me put my name in the Goblet!” Keith accuses, his face distorted in anger and hurt. 

“Keith…” Shiro sighs, defeated. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Shiro, I can take care of myself. I don’t need you interfering in my life.” 

Lance hates how Keith speaks, accusing Shiro without regrets. Ok, he must admit it is messy that Shiro did that instead of just talking to Keith directly, but Lance knows the action comes from a good place, he knows how much Shiro cares and worries.

“I know, I just thought—” Shiro looks like a fucking kicked puppy, running his hand through his hair and sighing heavily. Lance hates that. 

“What? That I’m not good enough to win it?” Keith lifts his very expressive eyebrows, defying Shiro to say those words to his face. 

“Why are you talking to him like that, he was trying to help, asshole,” Normally, Lance would just mind his own business, but he feels almost obligated to be the knight in shining armor here. Shiro looks to be feeling too guilty to speak up.

Keith seems to only now have noticed Lance’s presence, eyeing him confusedly. “Who even are you to say that?” 

“Who are _you_!” Lance throws back, exasperated. “You almost rip my arm off, walks away with no apology, ignore your friend, and don’t even try to understand why he did what he did. Fucking great of a friend you are.” 

Lance’s temper doesn’t help Keith’s anger, if only makes it even worse. “Stay the fuck out of this.” 

With that, he dramatically storms away from them, like your typical angsty emo teenager. Lance huffs and rolls his eyes in frustration and annoyance. 

“I’m so sorry,” Shiro rubs his face tiredly, suddenly looking older and worn out, much different from when they were in the Projection Room just a few minutes ago. “Can we go to the Owlery tomorrow? I have to take care of this.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Lance tries his best to swallow his bitterness and comfort Shiro. “If you need to talk just send an owl my way, I’ll be bored all day long without you.”

“Thanks,” He smiles and Lance squeezes his shoulder as an encouragement. 

He watches Shiro hastily walk in the direction Keith had left. He definitely did not get a good first impression on the guy, and did not want to see him again so soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is by far my least favorite. not necessary at all for the story. just showing a bit more of the development in their dynamic but i oh well


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double update! just cause i really wanna get the story going as fast as i can.

For someone who’s so enthusiastic about the Triwizard Tournament, it’s only natural for Lance to put his name on the Goblet of Fire and want to be named champion, right?

Wrong.

Lance is all about the cheering. Picking a favorite, betting potion ingredients and homeworks done for a month, screaming until his throat is sore, watching it all from the bleachers and remembering everything in details.

Shiro, on the other hand, is all about competing. The adrenaline pumping through his veins, the feeling of accomplishment, of duty fulfilled, the knowledge that if something goes wrong he would get hurt instead of somebody else.

Naturally, Shiro had put his name in the Goblet. No one would be surprised if he’s chosen, people _want_ him to be chosen. Who else could possibly be more fitting to be Durmstrang’s champion? There's no one braver, more skilled. There is no one kinder and gentler, either.

It makes Lence uneasy, he’s grown extremely fond of the guy in the week they’ve hung out around school. It makes fear curl around his guts, it sends a bad shiver down his spine. He shouldn't be afraid, if anyone can pull all the trials off flawlessly is Shiro, yet all the _what ifs_ circle around his head, making him wonder, making him wish Shiro won’t be chosen. It’s selfish and greedy, and still Lance can’t help but want him safe at his side on the bleachers, cheering for another Durmstrang student. 

Loud cheering snaps Lance out of his thoughts. Hogwarts Champion had already been picked, the brave Griffyndor Quiddtch captain, Thace. Next is Beauxbatons’ champion had been announced, a beautiful girl named Allura. She rises from her sit and waves at everybody, a dazzling smile and eyes full of excitement. Lance would have swooned at her a few days ago.

Hogwarts and Beauxbatons champions were announced, there is only one left. He searches for Shiro at the Durmstrang’s table. He’s already looking at Lance.

“The champion who will be representing Drumstrang Institute is…” Professor Alfor starts.

Lance doesn’t want him to finish. Maybe he won't even hear the rest over the sound of his own heartbeat.

“Takashi Shirogane!”

Lance hears the name, and his heart sinks.

He watches as Shiro stands up and waves honorably, grin big in his lips, before sitting down again, receiving pats on the shoulders from Keith sitting next to him.

Their eyes meet each other. Lance forces a smile out, giving Shiro a thumbs up. His smile falters, though, and he looks away.

“It was _so_ obvious Shirogane would be chosen.”

“So obvious.” Lance sighs.

Professor Alfor, the Hogwarts Headmaster, calls the three chosen champions to follow him out of the Great Hall, where they will be instructed to the first task, and the room explodes in enthusiastic applauses one more time.

Lance can’t help but steal a glance at Shiro, the good-hearted boy who only ever saw him in a positive light. Now he walks towards glory, a determined smile on his pretty pink lips, and Lance’s heart squeeze in affection and selfishness. He wants to reach, to tell Shiro not to go, but it is not for him to decide.

When the food comes flying go his plate, Lance realizes he has lost his appetite.

His housemates don’t notice when he gets up from the table and quietly leaves the Great Hall, fists curled tight on his sides, physically holding him from storming away and causing an unnecessary scene.

He doesn’t register where his feet are taking him, mind elsewhere, thinking about warm grey eyes and the possibility of them showing any hint of hurt. Shiro is more than capable of performing the trials with perfection, Lance _knows_ , and yet his belly feels tight with worry and anxiety. In this state of uneasiness, Lance can't help but wonder when has Shiro become so important to him.

He sits beside a statue in a dead end corridor, the spot where had last held the door to the school’s kitchen. Bringing his knees up to his chest and burying his face on them, the boy takes a deep breath, swallowing the knot in his throat, refusing to cry over something so foolish. Was it really foolish, though?

After Merlin knows how long, he can hear footsteps approaching. Lance prays it may be just a lost student and that they pass straight through him without noticing the curled up ball in the corner. Except the sounds get closer and closer, coming in his direction. Lance thinks it's the school’s caretaker again, about to scold him for something like sleeping in the corridor. He doesn't look up from his position, not at all in the mood to deal with anyone at the moment.

“Hey you,” It's Shiro. _Of all people_. “I was looking for you, no one could tell me where you were. What's wrong?”

Shiro’s voice is so tender and carried with worry it stings. Lance still doesn't look up. What can he say? _Don't go to the Tournament because I’m scared you’ll get hurt or even die? Give up on your chance for eternal glory for me, a guy you only met a week ago?_

He hears Shiro slide next to him on the floor and holds back a soft grunt. Lance wishes to be alone to mope about his selfishness and attachment to someone who will risk their life in a few days.

“They changed location?” Shiro asks curiously.

Lance _wants_ to ignore the question, but he can’t find it in himself to do so, not when it’s Shiro asking, body so close to his own, exhaling warmth and comfort and making him feel so safe. He sighs and lifts his head up until soft brown hair touches the cold marble of the wall. “I’ll have to look all over school for it again, it's a pain the ass.”

“But you do it anyways.”

“It’s something like home.” He shrugs.

Silence falls upon them. The usual easy silence that they're used to by now, except there is something different about it this time. It isn't bad or uncomfortable, though, it just makes Lance heart beat a tad faster in its ribcage for no reason.

“Can I ask you something?” Shiro taps his fingers on his knees, looks at Lance for a second before turning away again. _Cute_.

“Shoot.”

Shiro clears his throat, the sound echoing a little too much in the empty hallway, making Lance snort lightly in endearment.

“Uh, I— you see I—” Shiro stammers, cheeks growing redder by the second, bringing out his scar. Lance tilts his head in question and fondness. “As you know there's the Yule Ball coming up and I was thinking— I _am_ thinking that maybe if you don't have any other plans on Christmas night, if you would— oh. It's _Christmas_ night _of course_ you have plans, you're going home to your family, I’m an idiot for not thinking about this before, I’m so so—”

“Shiro.” Lance’s face is as red as Gryffindor’s colors, an unsure smile crippling on his lips, heart positioned at a starting line and ready to depart. He tugs at Shiro’s sleeve. “I’m not going home for Christmas this year. Ask me.”

It’s silent again for a moment and Lance is becoming the embodiment of anxiety as it drags out. Has he heard it right? Is this just his tired mind playing tricks? Until,

“Would you like to go to the ball with me?”

Lance inhales, bites his lip, grips harder on Shiro’s arm. “Hell fucking yeah.”

He doesn’t question it, doesn’t ask Shiro why him, not when it all feels this fragile, like the wrong movement of his finger will make Shiro change his mind.

“Really?” Shiro’s voice is just above a whisper, filled with shock and hesitance, like he had convinced himself that Lance would say no.

“Really.” He is smiling so big his eyes become small crescents.

Lance scoops closer, fully wrapping an arm around Shiro's biceps and burying his face on thick, dark fabric. He feels Shiro slightly lean his body towards him and Lance can't stop smiling in this moment of pure bliss.

With all the excitment about the actual tournament, Lance had completely forgotten about the ball. He had considered going by himself, but now he has a _date_. And out of all people Shiro had chosen Lance.

Later, they walk back to their dorms in silence, hands brushing against each other too often to be considered accidental, but neither of them admit that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder that the focus of this fic is shiro taking lance to the yule ball so we’re getting there folks...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is solely to introduce yall a new concept: twins allura and lotor. that's all this chapter is here for. 
> 
> also a little warning: i'm a big lancelot fucker so this story could not get away without a little bit of flirting between them. i'm sorry it's stronger than me. but it's nothing extreme so those of you who don't like probably won't be uncomfy
> 
> warning two: heith exists and is valid in this household 
> 
> enjoy!!

“This sounds so surreal, dude, you're living the full dream!” Hunk smiles excitedly at his best friend.

“I _know_! No one at home will believe that one of the Champions took me to the ball!” Lance claps his hands frenetically, the joy from being invited by Shiro yet fresh in his system.

“Does your family even understand anything about the Tournament, though?”

“I've talked about it so much I’m pretty sure they do.” Lance spins in his seat briefly before stopping to squint his eyes at the other. “Who are _you_ taking, though?”

“A Durmstrang guy.” Hunk shrugs, but that is his best friend and Lance knows better than to read it as just that.

“Is he cute?” Lance smiles knowingly and stretches his leg to nudge at Hunk with the tip of his foot.

“Dude,” Hunk sighs. _Wow, he's got it bad._ “He is so cute. Especially when he blushes, which is not often… He has kind of a temper but I managed to get through with my special brownies.”

“ _The_ special brownies?!” Lance says in a hushed whisper, widening his eyes. Hunk _is_ serious about this. “What is the name of the lucky one?”

“Keith Kogane.” Hunk sighs again, dreamily. “Isn't it a beautiful name?”

“ _Keith?!_ ” Lance’s eyes are now less than an inch close to popping out of his corneas.

“Yeah…? What's wrong?” Hunk asks, hesitantly. “Is he like, a Death Eater or something?”

“Worse,” Dramatic pause. “He's got a horrible mullet. And he’s always on Shiro’s ass.”

Lance hasn’t mentioned to Shiro - or anyone, really - that little argument with Keith a week ago, not wanting to interfere any further than he already had. He knows Keith isn’t a bad person, otherwise Shiro wouldn’t be friends with the guy, but Lance just couldn’t swallow that first impression. And in the days that followed, Keith only showed up to take Shiro away from Lance, to train for the tournament or whatever. Nonetheless, he’s always there to take Shiro away. So for now he’s set on being a pain in Keith’s ass.

“Oh,” Hunk smiles. “You’re just jealous.”

“I’m not _jealous_ !” He scoffs, horrified. “ _Me_ jealous of _Keith_! Please, Hunk. Shiro already said they’re like brothers. Besides, we all know I’m the superior Wizard.”

“I don't know, man, he showed me some spells and—”

“ _Hunk_! Which side are you on?!”

“I’m just saying…”  

“My side, dude! You're on my side!” Lance points to his chest exasperatedly. “Bros before hoes!”

“Again, I don't understand what that _means_!” Hunk waves his arms around as desperately as Lance. “And you know I always am on your side— well, most of the time… when you're right, and you're not turning people’s legs into jelly… which is often… but me and Keith are still going to the ball together, I don't care how much you whine about it.”

“I wasn't going to whine about anything.” Lance sulks. “Just let him know that I will beat his ass if he does anything to you. No, I’ll tell him that myself.”

Hunk rolls his eyes, smiling. “As you wish.”

Before they could continue the conversation, the classroom’s door opens with a loud noise as two people storm inside it hurriedly, Beauxbatons students, judging by their uniforms. They seem to not notice the two others already in the room. Lance recognizes Allura, the Beauxbatons' champion and the hello dies in his throat by the person she’s been following.

“Allura, for the last time, I am _not_ inviting anyone to the ball,” The displeasure is clear in the stranger’s voice. “ _They_ will have to invite _me_! That is how it works.”

“Fine, then! Be the idiot without a date!” The girl practically growls in frustration.

“Why do you even _care_?” The other turns around, towering over Allura with ease. She doesn't even flinch, though.

“Listen to me, dear brother,” The sweet nickname sounding wicked coming from her. “Unfortunately we are _twins,_ awfully similar twins. Anyone can tell we are related and I, as the Beauxbatons chosen champion, do not want to be associated with a lonely, pitiful loser like you, _especially_ at the ball.”

Lance and Hunk share an awkward look, frantically gesturing their heads to the twins fighting, deciding who would announce their presence.

“ _You go!”_ Lance mouths to his friend.

“ _Why me?_ ” Hunk mouths back.

“ _KEITH!”_ Lance whispers.

“ _What does Keith even have to do with—”_

They aren't as quiet as they think they are, though.

“Well, hello there.” He hears Allura speak and definitely not with her twin brother.

Lance slowly turns in his heels with a stiff smile on his lips. “Oh my god, hey! Allura, what a surprise! You know what we were _just_ leaving, I am so sorry to—”

“Who is that?” The taller boy, Allura’s twin, cuts in, looking at him quizzically. _Wow, rude._

“Name's Lance. Thanks for asking _me_ , not your sister, and for very rudely cutting me off right then.”

“Lance, hello,” Allura shoves past her brother with such grace one would never think of the words coming out of her mouth just moments ago. “I am so sorry for my brother, sometime I can't even believe he is from Beauxbatons…”

“I am still in the room and with a voice of my own, thank you very much, sister.” He approaches them while speaking and Lance gulps hard. Dear Merlin isn't that a very stunning man. Pale long hair bringing out his beautiful, smooth olive skin, all sharp features rough just enough around the edges, bright hazel eyes looking right into Lance’s own. And so fucking _tall,_ probably the tallest guy Lance has ever seen in his life.

“How _tall_ are you?” Lance blurts out before he can stop himself. He seems to have a problem with first impressions on hot guys.

“Most people usually ask for my name first,” His voice is playful and teasing. “But I’m guessing you are not most people. I’m 6’9,” He smirks and _winks_ at Lance. “In the most innocent way.”

“Oh, please.” Allura scoffs, face contorted in disgust. Hunk grunts in discomfort in the background.

“And your name is…?” Lance has just a hint of a smile on the corner of his lips.

“I'm Lotor,” He tilts his head, grin still radiant in his thin lips. “It is very, very nice to meet you, Lance.”

“Can you two stop flirting I think I might throw up.” Hunk complains, massaging his temples with closed eyes. “How did you even find this room?”

“Oh, we were looking for a room where I could practice waltzing.” Allura smiles brightly. “I may be a little rusty and I want to perform my best at the ball.”

“And I am supposed to help her.” Lotor rolls his eyes.

Hunk shifts besides Lance, cleaning his throat. “Hello, hi, I’m Hunk, pleasure to meet you two,” He claps his hands, matter of factly. “It would be _lovely_ to stay here watching this amazing dynamic between the three of you, but I have a really cute date waiting for me at the library so… I’ll show myself out.”

Lance spins in his heels, speaking to Hunk's back. “Tell Keith to keep an eye out! The superior Wizard will come for him!”

“Who?” Hunk retorts over his shoulder.

“Me, Hunk! _Me_!” Lance yells, but Hunk is already leaving the room with shoulders shaking in laughter.

“Your friend is very funny, Lance.” Allura smiles.

“He is very sweet too,” Lance crosses his arms. “Keith better appreciate him _a lot_.”

“Well, I’ve got a dress fitting soon so let’s get started,” Allura claps her hands, turning to Lotor. “Get in position.”

Lotor rolls his eyes — something he does a lot, apparently — but stops nagging and places his hand on Allura’s waist, grabbing her hand with his own. They start moving around the room, and Lance must admit it’s one of the most gracious waltzes he’s ever seen. The twins’ moves are swift and smooth, their lilac robes moving like soft clouds.

“You guys are pretty good,” Lance comments. He makes himself comfortable on one of the chairs, throwing his feet on top of a table, he has nothing better to do anyways — aside from tons of homework, but that can definitely wait.

“Thank you,” Allura beems, very proud of her dancing skills. “You’re Muggle-Born, right, Lance? Do Muggles have balls too?”

Lance snorts at the question, because he’s still an annoying teenager that finds the word ‘balls’ funny. “Muggle-Born and proud, thank you very much,” He nods his head. “And yes, we do have… dancing events. Proms, Quinceaneras, Sweet Sixteen parties...”

“Are they like our balls?” Allura questions again, and Lance huffs a laughter. For Merlin, how immature can he be?

“Mostly, yeah,” His eyes glint as he sees an opportunity to have some fun with the other wizards. “Except we mount on horses the entire time.”

“What? Is that true?” Allura’s mouth falls open and even Lotor sends an incredulous look his way.

Lance nods in all the seriousness he can gather. “And the music is played backwards so we have to dance like that too, it’s pretty hard.”

“Muggles are so weird…” The girl just shakes her head in disbelief. “No offense, of course.” She quickly adds.

“None taken.” Lance dismisses it with a flick of his hand. “You know, the songs we dance to are made solely by machines, it’s an okay sound, but too mechanic for my tastes.”

“Oh my Merlin!” Allura gasps, snapping her head at his direction. “Are you serious?”

“Yep! And electricity is actually run by small rodents that power whole cities by running on wheels underground,” Lance has never tried so hard to keep a straight face, he can’t help how entertaining it is to mess with the wizards. He should be feeling bad.

“But our Muggle Studies teacher said—”

“Are _they_ a Muggle? Because _I_ grew up around Muggles, Lotor. I _am_ Muggle-Born — and proud, so if you are going to offend me by doubting what I’m saying then I might as well leave.”

”Don't interrupt, Lotor!” Allura scolds her brother who just rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Anyways,” He shrugs, done with the Muggle subjects. “Lotor, keep your feet closer, it’s making your legs look like two awkward wandering sticks.” Lotor turns his piercing gaze to Lance, not very happy about the comment. “Hey, it’s constructive criticism!”

He scoffs. “Do you even waltz?”

“I do, actually.” Lance stands up and crosses the room to where Lotor is, looking up amusedly at the latter. “And I’m really good, just so you know.”

“Really? Care to show me?”

“With pleasure,” Lance mimics the other’s entertained expression.

“Excuse me, sister.” Lotor doesn’t really look at Allura when he backs away from her.

Lance keeps up the cocky grin even as Lotor gracefully gets in position and start conducting them around, if there’s one thing Lance is good at, it’s waltzing. Merlin knows how much he had to practice those same moves with his sisters.

He stares right into Lotor’s eyes, totally up for the silent challenge between them. Thankfully, Lance still remembers how to do it properly and doesn’t accidentally step on Lotor’s foot — that would be really embarrassing. They spin, and twirl, and Lance is actually having a lot of fun, even laughing out loud when Lotor’s hair gets in his mouth in the middle of a spin.

“We make an awfully great pair, don't you think? Will you come to the ball with me and show it to everyone else?” Lotor leans him down for the final move, but Lance keeps his head steady to look at the other.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t invite anyone?” Lance squints his eyes, remembering Lotor’s words from earlier.

“I’m making an exception for you.”

“Flattered,” Lance says. “But you're too late. Shirogane already asked me.”

“The Durmstrang’s champion?” He quirks a thin, pale eyebrow. “Well, I don't mind sharing.”

Lance doesn’t really know what to say to that, he gets the light impression that Lotor is _seriously_ flirting with him. And thank Merlin Allura picks up on his awkwardness and steps in the conversation, saving him from being a stuttering mess. “Stop it, Lotor, let’s go. See you around, Lance!”

“See you, sweetheart,” Lotor waves gracefully and a moment later he’s left all alone in the empty room.

“Well, what a turn of events,” Lance says to nobody in particular.

He’s about to head out and do something else, like write bad poetry about grey eyes when an owl comes flying through the window. It’s a note from none other than Shiro, asking him to meet up at the library like they always did. Lance’s heart is suddenly filled with affection and he doesn’t think twice before he bursts out the door and runs to the library, a stupidly big smile on his lips and butterflies in his belly.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaa next chapter is the ball!!! finally!! what we're all here for!! 
> 
> it might take a bit to write it since i have less than half of it done but i'll update as soon as possible


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m back back back again to finally (finally) finish this fic 
> 
> i’m not that please with this chapter, i had a major writers block at the middle of it and it’s why i took so long to update (and why this may feel a bit rushed), but since this was the only chapter that was incomplete i pushed myself to write it for you guys
> 
> i also changed the title of the fic 
> 
> hopefully you’ll enjoy!

Lance stands in front of the mirror in his room in the Slytherin dungeon, staring at his reflection in frustration, his hair just wouldn't stay in place no matter how much product he applied, trying to tame it and keep it slicked back the best he could.

He gives up on it with an annoyed ruff, he has already spent too much time on this, he’s going to be late. Lance finishes buttoning up his suit jacket, fixes up his tie and heads out, not without taking a last look in the mirror to check if everything is okay. Again.

Lance arrives at the entrance to the Great Hall, straightening his black suit, and immediately looks for Shiro, frowning when he can't seem to find the familiar face or hair anywhere. Anxiety starts scratching at Lance’s ribs as he thinks that perhaps Shiro had regretted asking him and he is about to be stood up minutes before the entrance. 

He shakes his head lightly, making sure to not disturb his hair. _Don't go there, he will be here._

Lance spots the twins, and he is about to trip on his own feet. He has never ever felt more bisexual than at that very moment. 

Allura looks simply ethereal in a layered white sheer dress embroidered with opals and moonstones that reflected in the lights around them, her hair up is a messily styled bun, the white of her hair and dress contrasting beautifully with her dark olive skin. She reminds Lance of the moon.

Lotor, in turn, wears a british cut pearly white suit with a dark purple dress shirt, hair up in a long ponytail, a few rebel strands sticking out in the front, hair and suit also emphasizing his skin. Looking at both twins like this, Lance could really see their almost identical resemblances. 

“You should be inside with the other students, only the champions and their dates will enter through here,” He hears Allura remark with irritation as he approaches.

“I told you I want to see Lance, stop nagging like a Gremlin,” Lotor rolls his eyes to the very back of his head. 

“I’m not a Gremlin!” Allura huffs.

“You sure have the height of one,”

“You’re just freakishly tall!” She crosses her arms over her chest, looking away in disdain.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night, sister,” The twin smirks in contentment. 

Lance clears his throat loudly, announcing his presence. 

Their heads snap at Lance’s direction and before either of them can say anything, Lotor lets out a horribly strangled gasp, not exactly the reaction he had been expecting. “For Merlin’s beard your _tie._ It’s hideous,”

“Well, I don’t own anything better!” His hands fly up to hide the bright yellow bow-tie around his neck, face flushing.

“Here,” Lotor begins to gracefully undo his own tie, a nice lilac silk with blue embroidery. He does the same with Lance’s own, except not as delicately and with his nose scrunched up in disgust. “You will waltz with one of the champions, I cannot let you go in there with this… monstrosity around your neck,”

“I don't think it's that bad…” Lance sulks.

“Thank Merlin you're pretty,” Lotor mumbles exasperatedly and Lance can't hold back the chuckle in his throat. The foreign Wizard fishes his wand from the inside of his suit and makes the yellow bowtie disappear with a flick of his wrist, looking very pleased doing so. “Lilac brings out your eyes,”

Lotor takes one step closer, lacing the shorter boy’s neck with the tie and Lance has to crook his neck up too high for his likings in order to look at the other.

“Thanks…” Lance crooks a smile as Lotor starts knotting the tie. “Have you seen Shiro?” 

“Oh? Are you being stood up?” Lotor raises his eyebrows, voice deepening and leaning just a tad bit down towards Lance. “I would have thought better of Drumstrang’s golden boy. You can still dance with me, sweetcheeks,”

He is about to stutter out a reply when loud and hurried footsteps are heard coming from the left corridor. 

Lance is really proud of himself for not embarrassingly stumbling back in awe at the sight. Shiro looks illegally gorgeous in Drumstrang’s vivid red formal clothing. The belt around his waist and over his chest bringing out the defined shape of his body and dark brown pants hugging toned thighs beautifully, a thick red cape layered with fur on the inside draped over his left shoulder. Lance smiles endearingly at the white tuff of hair slicked back, adorably emphasizing the scar across Shiro’s nose.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, this gala uniform was really hard to put on,” Shiro takes a deep breath and straightens his back. His eyes fall upon Lance and Lotor’s proximity and frowns hard. 

“Would you look at that, the champion having problems with his clothes,” Lotor teases before stepping back with a last tug at Lance’s tie. “Maybe next time, huh, sweetheart?” He winks and turns around, walking away with hands behind his back and immaculate posture. 

“You're late,” Lance remarks with amusement, not being able to take his eyes off of Shiro. 

“I know I just—” Shiro stops and looks, no— checks out Lance, from his black social shoes to his hair, blinking a few times. “You look… _wow,_ ” 

“And you look very handsome yourself,” Lance giggles, feeling butterflies in his belly. “Come on now, the doors will open at any second,”

“Yeah,” Shiro clears his throat. “Right,”

They move to the end of the line behind Allura and Nyma, Thace and Ulaz. Shiro offers his left arm to Lance, who gladly hooks his own around it. The contact is warm and suddenly Lance’s clothes are too hot for him.

“Are you nervous?” Lance whispers. 

“More than when I fought the dragon that took my arm,” Shiro affirms.

“I’m sure you’ve been to a lot of these before,”

“Never with you, though,”

The heavy doors of the Great Hall open with a loud, dramatic noise that (thankfully) kills whatever Lance had to say in his throat. The sight in front of them is so absurdly _magical_ , it takes his breath away — or maybe it’s the proximity with Shiro. 

Any place in Hogwarts has never looked more beautiful and enchanting than the Great Hall tonight, with the gold decorations around the columns and walls, the usual candles hovering above their heads replaced with big chandeliers, surrounded by tiny sparkles of light that seemed to be all over the room. It’s something out of a goddamn fairy tale. And as the Champions start walking the corridor of people made for them, Lance realizes he even has his own Prince Charming. 

The three pais reach the middle of the circle of students from the three schools, and a song starts as the people get a little closer around them, a light, beautiful melody filling the room. Lance only snaps out of it when Shiro’s hand grabs his own - so warm, and his prosthetic one holds his waist - so strong. 

Lance looks at Shiro’s eyes, and they burn with _something_ so strong that makes Lance want to look away. He doesn’t, though. It is stunning and addicting as much as it is intense. There’s nowhere to run from Shiro, and as his stomach starts doing crazy loops and his cheeks heat up like crazy, Lance realizes he doesn’t want to. He wants to be right here, under Shiro’s hypnotic glance and firm hold. 

Just a couple weeks ago Shiro had averted his eyes from Lance at the welcoming ceremony, a couple weeks ago Lance was awkwardly introducing himself, a couple weeks ago it was only a silly crush. Now, as they sweep around, Lance knows for sure he has never felt anything this strongly in his years. It had been incredibly easy to be embraced by this feeling when Shiro had shown himself so good hearted and kind, even after the tough things that happened in his past. In Lance’s head, there is no one with a better nature, with a purer soul. 

Shiro lifts Lance up in the air with a thrill, and Lance’s heart does the same inside his chest. Of all the times he daydreamed about attending the Yule Ball, never in his dream he would be going with Takashi Shirogane. With _Shiro_.

“You’re very good,” Shiro says lowly, meant for only Lance to hear. It’s personal, intimate, and it sends a shiver down his back. “Where did you learn how to waltz like this?” 

“I had to dance with my sisters at all their Quinceanera. Impressed?” He shots an eyebrow up, trying his goddamn best to not stutter. 

“With you? Every time,” 

Shiro really has to stop saying this kind of thing and stop looking at him like that if he wants Lance to survive until the end of the dance. 

They twirl around a few more times, moving along with the music and lost in each other’s eyes. Those gorgeous, hypnotizing grey eyes, so soft when aimed at him. Lance feels like fucking Cinderella, except he doesn’t really have to run home at midnight, he’s already home and Shiro is right there. 

“I have something to confess,” Shiro speaks, voice a little unnerved. 

Shiro spins them around again, his red cloak flowing around Lance’s dark blue one. Why is there so much spinning in this forsaken dance? 

“What is it?” He asks, tightening the grip on Shiro’s hand for encouragement. 

“I… I don’t know how to pronounce your name,” He looks at Lance’s tie bashfully, a soft blush taking over his cheeks.

He realizes then that he hasn’t heard Shiro speak his name since their first encounter at the library. Lance giggles at the adorableness of the man in front of him. “Try it,” 

“Lenze…?” Shiro winces, looking up to meet Lance’s eyes, uncertain. 

“Lan-ss-e” He corrects softly.

“Lan-ss-e…?” Shiro tries once again and Lance smiles big and bright. 

“There you go,”

“Lance.” Shiro grins, proud of himself, and Lance can’t take his eyes off of him, even when the waltz ends and they bow to each other.

It is after the Champion’s waltz ends that the party really begins. People are all around them now, talking and eating and drinking in the most odd combination groups, he even sees Allura and Lotor giggling together and not arguing for once. 

Lance spots Pidge with Hunk and (unfortunately) Keith, the later holding onto his best friend’s arm. Okay, he has to admit they make a pretty cute couple, and it’s hard to be spiteful at Keith when he is making Hunk smile that big. Guess he will have to stand the guy from now on, not that he’s ever going to say that aloud to anyone — and he still dreaded that mullet. Allura and Lotor join them a minute later, bringing new subjects to the conversation, making their chattering even more fun. 

Shiro’s hand is warm against the small of Lance’s back when he leans down and whispers on Lance’s ear, asking if they could take a walk outside, just the two of them. Lance’s heart does a quick flip when he nods his head with a smile on his lips and a shine in his eyes. They slip away from their group of friends, who throw them knowing looks, and quickly head to the Middle Courtyard, hands ever locked together. 

The cold, fresh air is more than welcomed by Lance, and by the sigh Shiro lets out he appreciates it, too. They walk to a near stone bench and sit down close each other, fingers interlocked. 

“Lance,” Shiro calls. It’s what he’s been doing all night, just saying his name whenever he can. It’s adorable. “Thank you for agreeing to be my date tonight,” He strokes the back of Lance’s hand as he speaks. “I enjoy your company like no other,” 

“I can definitely say the same to you, big guy,” Lance knows he’s blushing and he damms himself for it. Shiro gives him an outshining smile. 

“Tomorrow is the first task,” He remarks, hesitation in his voice and breaking the eye contact with Lance to look at the horizon. “I haven’t figured it all out yet,” 

Lance swallows hard. It’s been easy so far to ignore the fact that Shiro is about to face three unbelievably dangerous challenges, and that he could possibly die, he’s been too thrilled with the Yule Ball to think about that tiny little factor too much. He can’t say to Shiro not to go, to give up, Lance has been through this conflict with himself and, again, it’s not his place to interfere with Shiro’s choice. Instead, he resolves to the other thing he does best when it comes to the man beside him. 

“You’re the best Wizard in all of Hogwarts right now, Shiro,” Lance takes Shiro’s non-prosthetic hand with his own two and brings it to his lap. “You’ll figure it out tomorrow’s challenge just like you will with the other two. I know it in my heart that if anyone can do this, it’s you,” 

He speaks with the most honesty he can, because even though he _knows_ Shiro can survive this, Lance still worries immensely. Shiro just got into his life and he doesn’t want to lose him anytime soon. 

Shiro looks so moved by Lance’s word, like he has never been told this in his life. “You have a lot of faith in me, Lance,” 

“Of course I do,” Lance scoffs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the planet, and drops his gaze to their conjoined hands. “But I need you to promise me one thing,” 

“Anything,” 

“Promise me that you will think of yourself for once, be selfish,” Lance begs, looking deep into Shiro’s eyes, trying the best he can to transmit how desperate he is. “Forget your damn hero complex. Come back to me alive,” 

Shiro brings both his hands to cup Lance’s face, touching their foreheads together. “I promise,” 

Moments later and their lips are touching, a kiss full of unspoken emotions and promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the whole point of this fic was only so lance could teach foreigner shiro to pronounce his name thank you very much


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double update!!

When Professor Coran announces Takashi Shirogane as the 5th Triwizard Tournament’s winner, all the three crowd cheer like they've just survived an apocalypse, the Drumstrang bleachers open so they can rejoice their victory with their Champion and Lance doesn't even try to hold back the tears.

In a moment of pure desperation, Lance ungracefully jumps over the wooden barrier reaching his waist. The rules be damned, the protocol, the teaches, all the students from the three schools— it all be damned. He desperately needs to see Shiro. 

Lance curses his legs for not running across the field any faster, his lungs for stinging— _burning_ , his tears for blurring his vision, his heart for beating so damn loudly. He doesn't stop at any moment to catch his breath, though, not when Shiro is _safe_ , waiting for him just a few more meters ahead. 

“ _Shiro_!” 

He screams into the field, voice cacophonously horrendous, awfully flooded with unimaginable relief. Shiro turns around, smile so big his eyes are small crescents, so _bright_ it outshines the spotlights around them.

As soon as he sees Lance running in his direction, hands holdings his robe out of the way in tight fists, scarf barely hanging around his neck, Shiro’s first and only instinct is to open his arms for him. Lance gladly throws himself into them without holding back, not caring about the wizard being the embodiment of sweat and dirt. Shiro’s arms promptly wrap themselves around Lance’s slender waist, they stumble back but he manages somehow to steady them in place even after the emotional and physically exhausting last task. 

Before he could even say a word, Lance is grabbing his head with his hands and locking their lips hard. They touch sloppily for what it feels like _hours_ , but it's been just a few seconds when Lance pulls away. 

“Y-you’re alive,” Lance sobs through short and exasperated intakes of breath, wide and wet blue eyes looking at Shiro like he’s a mirage, voice thick with all kinds of emotion. “You _won_ ,” He says, just above a whisper.

“I am,” Shiro smiles at Lance’s blotched, streaked with tears face with the most fond look in the world. “I did,”

Lance only needed those two words to hold onto Shiro’s neck for dear life of and break down crying again, burying his face on the crook of his neck. He holds Shiro so so tight, like he is going to disappear in thin air at any second. 

“I-I couldn't s-see inside,” Lance howls, shoulders violently shaking up and down. “I didn't k-know if you w-were—” He cuts himself, tightening even more his embrace. 

“I’m here now, Lance.” He whispers in a soft voice and Lance’s heart flies through his mouth. Shiro lowers him to the floor, making sure to lean down and not disturb their embrace.

“Yes, you are,” Lance smiles wider and pulls away from Shiro’s neck, only to stroke the white lock back and press their foreheads together. “You're also very sweaty,” He sniffs and laughs, thick with tears. Neither of them has stopped smiling yet.

“I’m also the Triwizard Tournament winner and I need to take pictures and be congratulated by other people,” Shiro teases, bringing a hand to one of Lance’s wet cheeks and softly wiping away the tears. 

“Oh, right! Sorry, kinda forgot about that small detail,” Lance lets out a breathless embarrassed laughter, sniffling again and hesitantly looking at Shiro. “Then I’ll see you around, I guess?” He tries a smile, except it comes out more like a wince.

Lance hasn't pulled fully away, though, arms still firm around Shiro’s neck. He doesn't want to part from Shiro, not when they've kissed and shared such a moment. He wants to Apparate them to his room in the Slytherin Dungeon and continue what they’ve started. He is afraid that if he leaves everything else will, too. Shiro will go back to Durmstrang and all Lance would have left are faint memories. 

Except, 

“Stay,” Shiro asks, and who is Lance to deny him something as simple as that. 

“Okay,”

Shiro looks to the side before placing a quick kiss on Lance’s forehead and intertwining their fingers together. Lance’s chest feels warm with affection for the other as he smiles back and tightens the grip on Shiro’s hand.

He stays by Shiro’s side, observing him smile polite and gratefully at everyone congratulating him with enthusiasm. It's dazzling. Lance can't take his eyes off of Shiro for a second, not even when he pulls Lance closer by the shoulder for a commemorative picture. 

The Triwizard Tournament really is the most amazing thing in the Magic World.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this is overdramatic i couldn’t help it


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> triple update!!

“You got everything?” Lance fidgets one last time with the silver and green striped scarf around Shiro’s neck. 

“Yes,” Shiro rolls his eyes, smiling. 

“Wand? The book I lent you? The Triwizard Cup? Our pics together?” 

“Check, check, check and check,” Shiro steps closer, hands automatically flying to Lance’s waist over the dark robes.

“My absolute and total affection?” 

“I don't know. Check?” Shiro teases.

“Check,” 

The two wizards smile at each other. Lance tilts his head up to meet Shiro’s awaiting lips, their cold noses bumping together, making both of them smile into the kiss. 

“Just one more year, yeah?” 

Lance nods, biting his lips to contain the tears, he absolutely hates goodbyes. There is still so much Lance wants to show Shiro; the Room of Requirement, the Trophy Room, the Astronomy Tower, maybe even sneak into the Prefects’ Bathroom. 

“Promise you’ll visit soon, though,” Lance pouts. “We _have_ to go to Hogsmeade,” 

Shiro chuckles, low and deep and just the way Lance loves. “Promise,” 

Their little warm bubble is popped when someone coughs heavily beside them. “Excuse me, lovebirds,”

“Allura! Lotor!” Lance chips happily, stepping closer to the twins and reluctantly releasing his hold on Shiro, save for their pinkies. 

“Hey there, charming,” Lotor purrs in his direction. 

“We came to say goodbye, even though your boyfriend won over us,” Allura teases, an amused smile on her lips. 

“Not my fault he's amazing,” Lance pulls on Shiro’s pinky to fully hold his hand. 

“It was a fair fight,”

“I would have won,” Lotor shrugs, throwing his hair over a shoulder. 

“Except you weren't even _chosen_ , brother.” There's venom in Allura’s voice that makes Lance shrink his shoulders, but Lotor seems unaffected by the remark.

“Anyways,” Lance intervenes. “You guys have my number and address, right? You’ll call and write?” 

“Absolutely, I’ll keep you updated about Nyma,” Allura snickers. Lotor rolls his eyes beside her, except Lance can spot an almost non-existent curve top his lips. He knows that the twins secretly love and care for each other.

“I’m looking forward to watching this— what did you call it… anime, you speak so enthusiastically of,” Lotor taps his fingers on his fine, purple robes.

Lance lets go of Shiro’s hand to throw his arms around both twins, forcing Lotor to lean down and Allura to almost lose balance.

“I’ll miss you guys, even your annoying bickering,” He feels the twins awkwardly hug him back — in their own Beauxbatons way. Lance pulls away to look in their faces. “Seriously, though, we gotta work on that, some sort of neutral argue zone when I’m around,” 

“That sounds… bearable,” 

“We’ll talk about that, sweetcheeks,” Lotor smirks. 

“He's taken, idiot,” Allura kicks her brother somehow graceful but painfully nonetheless. 

“I am not prompt to jealousy,” Lotor grins, eyes glancing on Shiro’s way. 

Lance rolls his eyes and laughs, blindly walking backwards until he feels Shiro’s hands on his shoulders. “Have a nice trip back home,” 

The twins wave goodbye and Lance turns around, allowing himself to get comfortable in Shiro’s embrace again. 

“Is okay if I say I don't like that guy?” 

“Yes,”

“I don't like that guy.” Shiro frowns hard, gripping on Lance’s hips. “He flirts too much with you,”

“He's just joking around, I think…” Lance smoothes the lines on his boyfriend’s forehead. “Don't be jealous, you're the only foreigner I want and need,”

Shiro gives him that open smile he absolutely loves, the one Shiro shows only to him. Lance promptly circles his arms around Shiro’s neck protected by the scarf he’s given to him. The action feels right, like his arms were made to fit there. 

“You will call and write too, right?” Lance pouts again, knowing it makes Shiro melt.

“Of course I will, more than anyone else,”

“You better, so I can always brag about my boyfriend, Takashi Shirogane, National Quidditch Player and Triwizard Tournament Winner, sending me love letters at dinner,” 

Shiro laughs, face as bright as the fucking sun. Lance smiles and strokes his hair affectionately, looking at him like Shiro holds the world in his warm grey eyes — and maybe he does. He wants to stare at his boyfriend forever, dammit. Appreciate his white fluff lock, the cute scar over his nose, his beautiful pink lips, everything. 

“Shiro,” Their bubble is popped up again and both of them wince, holding back a groan. “We have to go,”

“One moment,” He asks. 

“You said that ten minutes ago.” The other man complains - whines. 

“ _Another_ moment, Keith,” Shiro says over his shoulder, sighing heavily when turning back to face Lance and pouting. Lance wants to kiss it away so badly. “You heard him,” 

Lance huffs and throws his head back. “That really didn't make me like him any better,” 

“You two will get along eventually,”

“Over my dead body, maybe,” Lance shrugs, even though he doesn’t really _hate_ Keith, it’s fun to prick at him.

Shiro seals their lips before Lance could say anything else, both of them melting immediately into it. 

Lance wants to open his mouth, to let Shiro in, but they're still outside at the main gate and Shiro is still the champion with a new boyfriend. It's frustrating to stay like that, eager for more, but just their lips touching isn't bad, either. 

“I’ll really miss you,” Lance sighs when they pull just inches apart, his hot breath turning the cold air into a cloud. 

“Good,” Shiro smirks. “I’ll miss you too,” 

They kiss one more time before Shiro walks away, holding Lance’s hand until the last second. He watches Shiro disappear into the carriage door with heart in his hands and tears in his eyes.

Just one more year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it you guys. thank you so, so much for reading this. it means so much to me especially how i’ve been doubting my writing a lot. i felt like i owed you and the fic some closure and even though it’s not as detailed as i’d like it to be i hope you enjoyed reading this!! comments about what you think about it are much appreciated 
> 
> find me on twitter: @shircganes


End file.
